Doctored Chance #NaNoWriMo2019

27 | Shifty Business

Gas stations are almost as controversial as villains themselves. They provide a service, but their dealings are shifty at best and contribute greatly to the failing of the environment and often, the economy. Although, despite their downfalls and their carbon footprints and their marine-murdering oil spills, gas stations do come in handy a great deal—especially when you are on the run at night or starving at one o'clock in the morning after swimming all the way to the mainland from a certain central volcano. Their coffees might not be satisfying following a rough night of drying out all your soggy notebooks and hiding from camera drones, but the other curios they provide can certainly improve a grisly situation. For example, a new hat can be purchased to hide your receding hairline and double as a disguise. You can buy a handheld fan to help speed up the recovery of your critical notes. You could even buy fireworks and a lighter to take out a few unwelcome drones with style.

Or, you could buy several gallons of weed killer, ten bags of ice and a cooler, a pack of sodas, a box of wine, and assorted snacks, then be on your way. Tobias was not used to shopping with teenagers and hadn't the energy to say no to them when he placed his ice, wine, and weed killer on the counter and watched the pile grow through tired eyes.

Dizzy slid the pack of sodas next to a gallon of weed killer. Milk Chocolate added chocolate milk and a box of cereal on top. Hiccup added a few packets of potato chips, a bag of gummy worms, and a couple tubes of trail mix. They each said thank you and waited patiently nearby to take their things while he fingered, frowning, through a wad of cash.

Tobias handed the payment to the cashier and picked up as many of the weed killer jugs as he could carry.

"Looks like you've got a lotta weeds, eh?" the cashier remarked offhandedly, sliding the register drawer shut.

"Are you paid enough to care?" Tobias returned snidely.

The cashier shrugged. "Nope."

Tobias sniffed and looked to his young companions, who had taken their own items from the bench and left his pile alone. He frowned and gestured to his things with a nod. "Give me a hand, girls, if you please."

Hiccup moaned and tilted her head back. She dropped her hoard of treats into Milk Chocolate's arms and dragged her feet over to the counter. The smallest girl waddled out the sliding doors towards the van while the others started to pick up what was left.

They filled their arms and each left the store, laden. Hiccup raced to get back to her snacks, the cooler balanced on her back, filled with unopened ice bags. Though she moved as fast as she could, the weight slowed her greatly.

Dizzy bumped into Tobias's shoulder, causing him to stagger under the weight of the jugs in his grip. She grinned lopsidedly. Her spiky hair was flopping, the gel wearing out. "What are you frowning about, Doc? For a couple of kids and a cripple, we did pretty good tonight. We should celebrate."

Tobias's mind was stuck on the moment in his recent past where he should have said "no" to three teenagers. He blinked and readjusted his jugs. "Cripple. I wouldn't say that. Although, now that you bring it up, I have been considering getting a cane. After tonight, I realized that having to actively think about taking a step every time that I take a step with this prosthetic really taxes my stamina. I'm unused to it."

"You must have missed when I said, we should celebrate." Dizzy, rolling her eyes, pushed her cargo into the back of the van. Hiccup started to arrange everything in the space.

"I didn't miss it." Tobias carefully passed his things to Hiccup, then bent to rub his sore stub over his baggy jeans. The doctors in the hospital, following the bomb incident, had shortened it when they had inserted the prosthetic.